


Creature Comforts

by VioletMind



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Romance, spies might be badass but they still need to relax every once in a while okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletMind/pseuds/VioletMind
Summary: Because even spies deserve the simple pleasures in life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't actively written fanfic in a while so I'm still a little rusty, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

They are in Paris and it is spring -as Paris should always be, what with all the flowers everywhere- and Napoleon is trying to convince them to do something fun. Really all Gaby wants to do is go back to their hotel and take a long, hot bath and soothe her aching muscles.

They had just finished a particularly grueling mission for U.N.C.L.E -stakeouts and burgling choice information should not be this much work, in Gaby’s opinion- and she’s in no mood to do anything but relax. 

“Cowboy…” Illya begins, the warning as clear in his tone as the dark circles under his eyes. Their mark had been fairly hyperactive, running off of seemingly boundless stores of energy that left the three exhausted and chasing him all around the city. Or the two of them at least, Solo not included. Illya had began to wonder if his partner had any sort of special secret he used to always be so chipper, or if that was simply the nature of the beast.

Whatever the reason, he hates him for it in that moment.

“Come on, Peril, live a little. We’re in Paris for heaven’s sake,” Napoleon begins imploringly, the name of the city rolling of his tongue and filled with something not unlike excitement. He’s walking backwards in front of them, if only to take in the sight before him as fodder to tease the Russian with later.

Gaby is attached to his arm, looking dead on her feet and if asked only because she will fall over from exhaustion if she doesn’t. Not because the behemoth of a man is warm and helps fight the lingering chill in air that’s leftover from winter. Not because she can lean her head against his shoulder just the right way or that she likes the comfortingly solid feel of him against her side. 

She could fall asleep right there against him, nevermind the fact that she was on her feet, and she almost does- but then Napoleon starts to speak again and she wants to hit him. 

“Don’t you want to see the sights?” The way the American raises his eyebrows makes Illya almost certain that he is not talking about the architecture -which is admittedly beautiful, for being French- or the flowers. It rankles him as always, the careless way Solo goes through women in nearly every city they’re in if he has the time. Maybe it’s his impressive amount of discipline prickling in the face of one who possesses so little, or more likely than even that is the fact that ever since Rome, a certain small mechanic has had an ever increasing stranglehold on his heart.

“No,” He answers dryly and glances at Gaby out of the corner of his eye only a moment later before he can stop himself.

He doesn’t mind how she’s managed to hook both her arms around one of his, hugging onto it in an attempt to not get left behind if she does in fact fall asleep before they reach the hotel. If she did it wouldn’t be a problem; he will just pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. Of course he doesn’t say this out loud, especially not with how Solo continues to grin at them all the way back to their hotel.

In the elevator Gaby slumps into him without a word, taking full advantage of his strength and knowing he won’t let her fall. She closes her eyes, murmuring something about needing to rest them against the knit fabric of his turtleneck. Within seconds she’s dozing and nestling her cheek against the arm that she clutches so close to her.

Napoleon says nothing, naturally, knowing a tired Gaby is not one he wants to disturb unless absolutely necessary. However this does not stop him from shooting knowing looks at the pair, greatly amused by how pointedly the other man is ignoring him in such a small space. 

Illya is thankful that their hotel room is on one of the highest floors in the building this time. This way gets to feel Gaby’s form against his own for longer.

The elevator dings shrilly and makes Gaby scrunch her delicate nose in displeasure, her eyebrows nearly meeting in the middle she furrows them so hard as she grumbles. She was having a perfectly fine nap and she is loathe for anything to interrupt it, even if it was the signal that an actual bed is within mere feet now.

Still though she picks her head up from the nook Illya’s shoulder has created, blinking the world into focus. Napoleon has taken off his jacket and is smiling at her like he knows something she doesn’t, so she gives him the best scowl she can muster in her weakened state.

“Goodnight you two,” The American says far too casually and it is Illya’s turn to scowl as he practically waltzes down the hallway before either of them can say a word. Gaby huffs and mutters something in German, no doubt an insult of some kind, and starts trudging for the room she shares with Illya- all the while keeping a firm grip on his arm until she becomes the one that’s leading him.

Illya is fine with this as they have the same destination. Nearly all he can think about is falling into bed and sleeping for the next ten hours- preferably with Gaby beside him. 

Together the two of them make a beeline for the bedroom, Gaby only stopping to toe off her shoes before falling into the large bed that dominates the room. Illya takes more time, sitting on the edge to take off his shoes and socks while the little chop shop girl makes a show of wrapping herself up in the covers and adjusting herself until she finds the most comfortable position.

Like Gaby, he doesn’t bother changing his clothes before he lays down on his side, his body feeling too heavy to manage the routine act. Her back is to him and she’s laying with one leg curled against her stomach and the other stretched out. Illya smiles when he sees her shoulders are relaxed and her breathing is slow.

The bed is a little too soft for him, his body too used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, but he’s too tired to complain about it. It is comfortable enough for Gaby not to mention it, and he thinks maybe he won’t wake up as stiff in the morning.

He only adjusts his pillow once before his eyes can’t stay open any longer, and he’s out like a light.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love it if you let me know what you think! :D I already have a couple chapters planned out but if you have a suggestion for a comfort/situation feel free to fling it at me <3
> 
> Stay tuned, folks!


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